


Second Most Important

by shereshoyad



Category: Green Rider Series - Kristen Britain
Genre: F/M, Light Angst, M/M, Romance, Wrestling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-03 02:50:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17275709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shereshoyad/pseuds/shereshoyad
Summary: You may not have a future together, but you do have the present.





	Second Most Important

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CasSaunteredVaguelyDownwards](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CasSaunteredVaguelyDownwards/gifts).



> A long time ago, I was prompted by CasSaunteredVaguelyDownwards to write a Fastion/Reader fanfiction. I posted it on tumblr back then but now decided to export it on to here.  
> It can be read from a female as well as a male perspective.

Training with Drent is always awful. Sometimes you don’t really know why you bother, it’s not exactly like you need to do it. Only the best get to train with him, he handpicks his students and you’re not an exception. Most of his students become Weapons, one day. You won’t, that much is clear. It’s not like your family is going to let you. While many of the other swordmaster initiates are already planning their transferral to the Forge, you don’t. You’ll have to get back to courtly life one day, seeking favours with Queen Isen, looking for someone to marry and to have children and to carry on the family line. 

It would be sensible to stop crawling through the mud, to stop being beaten by far better opponents, to stop acquiring bruise after bruise, day after day. Most of the time, you don’t look quite as presentable as you should, considering your place in court. It would even be easier. No more bruises. No more humiliated lying in the muddy pitch. No more screaming from Drent. And yet, you can’t yourself bring to quit. 

You like swordplay, you like to fight. You like competing with you peers, with swords, staffs or barehanded. You like competing with him.

He doesn’t smile, he never does. Not even at you. 

“Once again”, Drent commands and you both take position. Quite close, as it is. You love barehanded training. It’s no sparring, this time, although you like how unpredictable that can be. You’ve been assigned a specific exercise now, and with this exercise? You’re more than fine, too. 

Fastion begins, he grapples into your right arm, brings his weight down, you feel his right boot at you inner thigh. Barefoot would be better, you catch yourself thinking, but you don’t have time to think – the momentum throws you over Fastion’s right shoulder, and while you fly through the air, he holds onto your arm, guides your fall. You let out a laugh, a happy, giddy one because you can fly, because you can fly in his arms, and why isn’t life always like this? 

Then you fall, and he falls, too, because it’s like that with this throw. He’s helping you to fly, and then you fall together, and he still holds your arm as you both lie on the ground, clothes dirty as ever, and his head is so close to yours, you’d barely have to move to kiss him on the cheek. But this isn’t the place, a whole lot of swordmaster initiates and Master Drent are watching you, so you just let out a content sigh. He’s still holding your arm. 

You barely notice Drent’s screaming as he orders you to get up. You do notice the faint notion of amusement, or maybe joy, on Fastion’s face as he sits up and still holds your hand when you both get up. It’s always like this with him, subtle expressions, a helping hand here, a caress disguised as a pat there. He lets your hand go once you’re both up, and you both go to the sideline while another two students take the place on the rink. 

“Come to my room?”, you ask Fastion from the corner of your mouth. You don’t think anyone else heard you, and what if? It’s not exactly a secret what is going on between you. He nods and while he’s already learned that stony face he’ll need once he gets to be a Weapon, you never bothered learning it, and you now let the smile spread on your face. 

Some day, all of this will find its end. Some day, Fastion will go to the Forge, because he is that good a swordsman and you have no doubt the Weapons will attest him a fine enough character to let him join their ranks. Every passing day brings you closer to his departure. But your time is not up yet, and you cherish it while you can. The strength of his body, his voice, his elegant but efficient movements. The way his eyes lighten up when he talks about Sacoridia’s history, or the architectural features of the castle. The intense look in his eyes when he’s focused on you, and only on you. 

Yes, I do love that man, you think, and get lost in watching him, whatever he does. You know he likes you, he wouldn’t spend time with you otherwise. Engage you in discussions and exercises, look at you like you’re the second most important thing in his life. Because that’s true, you know that, he told you once. You’re always coming second, because his true love is the Kingdom of Sacoridia, and you can’t compete with that. 

He’s going to become a Weapon, to serve Queen and country, and if you’re lucky, you’ll get to watch him doing that. You don’t know what exactly the future may bring. You know your shared days are numbered, but you can’t bring yourself to regret the thing you have. This beautiful thing called love.


End file.
